


Head Over Heels In Love~!

by CookieCatSU



Series: Welcome to the Happy Habitat! (Sans the Habitat) [2]
Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Boris is the one who's enamoured, Companion Piece, Dr. Habit P.O.V., Habit ain't very good at the english, He is head over heels for Kamal, Here's a thought, M/M, Wallus gives good advice, and maybe obsessed, but who is?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: It only takes a week for Habit to fall head over heels in love with Kamal.Kamal's just so… nice. Nicer than nice.
Relationships: Kamal Bora/Dr. Boris Habit
Series: Welcome to the Happy Habitat! (Sans the Habitat) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919548
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Head Over Heels In Love~!

It only takes a week for Habit to fall head over heels for him. 

Kamal's just so… nice, and Boris likes listening to him laugh, and watching him smile, because he has the _prettiest_ smile Habit's ever seen.

He's smart and he's gentle and he has lovely hair that looks so soft to the touch, and he smells like plums and he's really really nice to Boris. No one's ever been nice to Habit before. At least, not to the extent Kamal is.

It's little things, like the way he half snort-cackles at Habit's jokes, even the ones no one else found funny, and the care and attention he places into organizing Habit’s calendar entries by color and shape to keep him on track, or even the fact that he never forgets to remind Habit to wear his gloves, and he always remembers where Habit's left his spectacles (even when they're nestled in his wild red hair).

Habit can't take his eyes off of him, as soon as he sees him (and his smile, his smile, his gorgeous _smile_ ). 

There's something almost magnetic about him, and Habit finds himself looking up from the applications he's glancing over (glazed eyes: too many words), with wide eyes. Habit throws all of the applications in his hands on the floor, turns to the man, with hands now clasped on his desk, reading glasses perched precariously on his nose, and grins.

The decision is already made. Then Kamal smiles nervously, takes a seat across from Dr. Habit, and asks when he can get his surgical gloves on and dirty, with an anxious laugh. Dr. Habit laughs, too, and that's when he knows the deal is sealed.

He's qualified. Excellent references. 

Dr. Habit wants him working for him, if he'll have him.

Boris stares at the phone. He doesn't know why he's so nervous about calling him. It's simple. Just pick up the phone, dial the number scribbled across the strip of paper he'd been given, and tell him he's got the job. That's it. Easy. 

But it's not. It's not simple, because his heart is thudding rapidly against his ribs, and the phone keeps slipping out of his sweaty, clammy hands.

The dial tone ends, and Habit hears a voice crackling through the phone receiver.

"Hello?"

He scrambles to pick the phone back up, fumbling a bit, before slamming the house phone to his ear with a half queasy grin.

"Hullo. Is this Mr. Bora?"

"Yes" Comes that soft, warm voice. Habit nearly _melts_ at the sound of it, at that tremulous tenor.

"Congrats. You've been selected for the dental assystant position"

“Oh I… Dr. Habit? I’m sorry, I just hadn’t been expecting a response so soon. I assumed it'd take at least a week for you to contact me, and that's assuming I even got the job"

Boris giggles, twirling the curly phone cord around his finger.

"Of course you got the job, Silly Billy. I just said so"

"Right. So uh, when do I start?"

"First thing tomorrow morning, of course!"

* * *

Habit finds himself absolutely enamored by his assistant's smile. He first catches sight of it during a budget meeting, about a week after hiring him. One of the other staff members made a joke, and Kamal had lit up like a neon sign. 

Boris can't look away.

Habit very much wants to, ever so gently, cradle his face in his hands, and carefully pry his mouth open, so he can gaze upon those pretty pearly whites of his- so he can watch the way the light glistens on the enamel, bright and sparkling. His hands itch to reach out, but he restrains the impulse. 

That's the last thing he should do.

Kamal clearly placed particular care and attention into maintaining his smile. The state of his dental health was doubly important to him, and Dr. Habit could really appreciate that. Why, if everyone was as steadfast as his wonderful new assistant, Habit would be out of a job! Ha ha.

"Not a single cavity" Habit announces, tone in awe, as he flashes his dental light over the backs of the outermost, bottom molars.

"Naturally, Doc" Kamal says, with what probably would have been a smug smirk, if his left cheek wasn't packed with gauze. Under the current circumstances, he could only manage a lopsided, half numb smile, followed immediately by a little wince.

Habit hums, before raising a brow in question. Kamal couldn't see his expression, of course, since he's halfway in his mouth, so he promptly voices his confusion.

"Then why were you so adamant that I check them, hmmm?"

Dr. Habit suppresses an amused giggle, when Kamal starts to stammer. He waits until Boris has retreated, somewhat, to retrieve his sickle probe, before speaking.

"Because checkups are important," He finally settles upon, "I was overdue for one, anyway"

"I did not have to be the one too do it" Boris reminds him, "There are _maeny_ dentists in this city"

Kamal scoffs. His words slur together, a bit. "Yeah well, maybe, but nonna them are free of charge, ya know? Besides, you know you wanted to, so don't be like that" 

'Yes. That isss true" Habit replies in a breathy little sing-song, because he did. He isn't certain why, but he doesn't feel like anyone should be touching his assistant's teeth but him. If anyone is going to look over these lovely pearly whites, it's going to be Dr. Boris Habit.

He doesn't think he trusts anyone else to protect his smile but him, anyhow. Kamal's only been working beside him for little under a month, but Boris has already decided to take it upon himself, to make sure that grin of his stays whole and undamaged (because he knows how _easy_ it is to break a smile). 

He absolutely wouldn't want that for Kamal.

Besides, how could he pass up the chance to spend 20 whole minutes admiring Kamal's teeth? Totally undisturbed? And without having to explain why he's staring? Sign him up!

It was about time to start wrapping up, though, wasn't it?

"And, we're done!"

Kamal swings his legs over the side of the examination chair, feet dangling a foot or so off the tile floor, plucks the gauze out of his mouth, and grins.

Boris feels like he's on the top of the world.

* * *

Habit is a hugger. 

His parents didn't give many hugs, growing up, and his father explained that men, real men, didn't hug. That made one soft, and no one wanted a soft, doughy man. His father was adamant that made a man like half a woman, and his son wouldn't be like half a woman. Not his boy. He’s raising a real man, he’d said. Habit does it twice as much as soon as he gets away from the house, just to spite his father (mostly, just to spite him). 

Of course, when he places his hand on Kamal's arm to lead him into the operating room, or clasps his hands over his, that has very little to do with his father. Because of course it doesn't.

When Boris does that, it's all about the man standing across from him.

Kamal's just so great. Of course he wants to hug him.

Whatever it takes to make him smile. (And everyone loves hugs, right?)

* * *

Boris jumps up from his desk as soon as he hears the door open, thoughts rushing a mile a minute. He deflates once he sees who it is.

"Oh. Hello, Wallis" Dr. Habit sighs, pouting faintly.

Wallus had always been a good fellow. Habit liked him well enough, but he… well, he wasn’t Kamal.

Wallus waves weakly, dragging his mop and bucket behind him. He gazes up as soon as his equipment is past the threshold, single brow raised, "Yah sound beat, Boss. Who _were_ ya expecting?" He pulls the lever on his bucket and yanks the mop out with a wet slap on the tile floor, "Cause it certainly wasn't moi, was it?"

"I thought perhaps my lovely assystant might-"

Wallus barks out a knowing laugh, and shakes long white hair out of his eye. "Oh, _Kamal_ left an hour ago"

"Oh, okay. Then I will just sit here, and… and wait for him to come back…!" Habit exclaims.

And he hunkers down, fully prepared to wait until Kamal returned.

" 'Kay" Wallus replies.

There's silence in the office, the only sound that of the mop sliding across the floor, as Wallus tends to cleaning.

Boris taps his finger against his forearm, considering. When _would_ Kamal be getting back? It was… he gazes up at the wooden clock hanging on his wall… it was 6:45pm. Okay. And, work didn't officially start tomorrow until 8:15am. Kamal would be there early, of course, probably about 7:55... So… that figures to... he counts on his fingers, tongue sticking out… 10, 20, 35… hmmn, that was 10 hours, or so.

10 hours. 10 hours? Habit doesn't actually think he can just sit and wait for 10 hours.

He'll just have to find something else to do, then.

"Oh, Better yet, I can record a little video for him to watch when he gets back, all about how much I missed him while he was gone!"

Wallus snorts. "Wow, you are head over heels in love with ‘im, aren't ya? Just totally lovesick"

It takes Habit a moment to decipher what Wallus means by that. Heels over heads...?- what an odd turn of phrase! Whatever could it mean… and Lovesickness, sick of love, trying not to get sick while in love? In love… in love?

"Ah. I see!" Habit laughs triumphantly, having broken the code. "You are suggesting that I am in love with… oh, with Kamal"

Wallus rolls his eyes, "Well, aren't cha?"

"No, I am not _in_ love with him" 

"Then what do _you_ call it?"

"Having a fondness for my favorite assystant, who I like very much"

"Ya know Doc, you're right. You're not. You're head over heels in clueless"

He moves to mop behind Habit's desk, head tilting toward his feet, which sit in the direct path of the mop. Dr. Habit moves his feet, placing them up on the desk without much of a thought, and Wallus mops beneath his legs in a single fluid motion.

The day moves on. Habit clicks on his computer, set on exploring the ‘interwebs’. Wallus slings his mop over his shoulder, and slams the office door shut behind him.

That leaves Dr. Habit a lot of time to think. 10 hours of it, actually (There’s no way he’s sleeping tonight. His lip stings and his eyes are too blurry, and he swears he keeps hearing ceramic slamming, slamming, slamming, onto the floor just beyond his office window).

Thankfully, he has a lot to think about.

* * *

He turns on the camera sitting on the tripod across from him, intent on recording his latest infomercial for the clinic, Pabit already on his hand, but stops short. Wallus' comments were bothering him, still.

How could he suggest such a thing? Him, in love with Kamal. How ridiculous!

The flash flickers on, casting a shadow of Boris hunched form across the wall, and the red record light flickers on as well, but Habit hardly notices. 

He does _love_ him, of course. He cares for him, more than he's cared for anyone, in a while, but he's not _in_ love with him. Kamal is a friend. Boris sees him as a friend. A very, _very_ good friend. A loyal friend.

 _Just_ a friend.

Right?

Right!

“Noo, wrong!” Pabit pipes up from beside Boris, tone a high pitched whine, “thait’s knot wright. Yuo like-like him”

No. No, he doesn’t.

Kamal is just a friend, who Boris highly admires, and wants to hug, and maybe cuddle with, and… 

“Hold hands with and kissy kiss under the twinkling stars”

“Quiet!” Habit hisses, and he presses his finger to the puppet’s felt mouth in an attempt to shush him, because it feels all too _real_ , now that it’s being voiced out loud.

It _feels_ like little Pabit is giving noise to his very inner thoughts, violating his privacy in a way he never quite has before, because... Boris actually really _does_ want to kiss Kamal, the more he thinks about it… he wants to kiss him, and hold him, and run his fingers through his hair... and he doesn’t want anyone to know, or to hear that….

Pabit pushes his hand away with a frantic wave of his little cloth arms, forcing the other arm down. His voice slides out insistently through the gap in Boris’ clenched teeth, “Not frend. Yuo _liiike_ him. You looove him. Yuo think Kamaal is prettiest guy, and want to spend all day and all night staring at him. Hold him close like pillows, talk and smile”

“You’re wrong” Habit replies, but it sounds diluted.

 _Did_ Habit think of Kamal as a friend? 

Was it a friend thing, to want to run his fingers through his hair and kiss him all over? That wasn't something friends thought about each other, was it?

A friend wouldn't think so much, about holding Kamal's hand in his, wouldn't wonder if his hands were as petal soft as they looked, wouldn't think so much about scooping him up and just cradling him in his arms, but Boris has, at least briefly, thought about all of those things. Multiple times.

Boris, flushed and agitated, becomes absolutely red in the face.

"Blin! I _am_ in love"

Pabit gives a nod of agreement, 

"We R. Now we need plan!"

* * *

Habit is in love with Kamal. There's no denying it.

Habit wonders if Kamal feels the same way about him that he does about Kamal. He wonders if he loves him, to the same extent he does. He thinks, probably not.

His parents certainly hadn't loved him as much as he loved them, and Martha hadn't liked him the way he liked her, and at some point in his life, he started to question if anyone was capable of returning his affection to the extent he could muster it. Because when Habit cared he cared completely, and when he felt he felt totally, hot and burning like a raging fire in his stomach. Unlike others, there was never a smolder, no little pile of smoke and twigs.

He couldn't do it in little increments.

Everytime Kamal smiles, Habit feels like he's on fire. Every time he laughs, he feels like he's suddenly on cloud nine. 

When Kamal talks, he wants to kiss him on the cheek, and remind him how wonderful he is, and prattle on for hours about how great he is, and he wants to collect up every word he utters in a little glass bottle, so he can listen to them- over and over and _over_ again, until the sweet sound of his voice is wrought in his mind like second memory. 

That… probably wasn't normal, was it? To be so enamored of his assistant…

Kamal giggles, slapping him on the arm. He flinches the taddest bit, but it doesn't actually hurt at all. Just a friendly tap from his tiny, adorable assistant.

"Doc, don't talk like that. I can't believe you! How could you say that to the kid?" He's laughing though, so Boris assumes he doesn't disapprove too much.

"She called me a meanance… Also, all those candies she eats _will_ eventually rot her teeth. I was just informing a client of their prognosisis, as a good Docktor should"

Kamal giggles faintly, gazing at him from over his clipboard, "You scared her out of her mind" Kamal argues.

"Yes. Well, that will keep her on her best behaviur" He pauses, "Do you want to be the first to have to fit dentures on a seven year old?" Habit asks, and he's absolutely serious.

Kamal bursts into laughter, though. His hands are clamped on his clipboard, and his hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few stray stragglers flying, green pen tucked behind his ear. His laugh devolves into a snorting cackle about halfway through, and his eyes are squinted with mirth, and he is beautiful.

More than beautiful. He's amazing, and he's Kamal, and Habit reflects that, Yes, of course he's in love with him. Of course he's utterly enamored of the man.

Who wouldn't be?

He's just _lovely._ The loveliest.

* * *

“Pass me that marker, please, my Calla Lily?”

Kamal stares at him with eyes squinted tight. Habit doesn’t pause, even if some part of him wants to gaze over so he can watch the way his expressions shift. There wasn’t really time to stop. Their next patient was going to be in in an hour, and these files weren’t going to organize themselves, after all!

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Hmmm?"

He reaches over Kamal to grab the marker himself, using his teeth to snatch off the cap, half bent over as he snatches out the first manilla file his clawed fingertips brush over. Kerry Fitz, huh. Yes, he remembers her. He gives a great wide grin, and doodles a little smiley face at the bottom corner of the folder.

"Calla Lily. You've called me that 5 or 6 times. Why?"

Oh. Oh. Shoot.

He’s caught. Caught dead in his tracks. Did he say that? He didn’t mean to say that. Oh, who is he kidding? He absolutely meant it. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

"Oh well, have you seen one after first bloom?"

"No… I don't… not much of a green thumb kind of guy, if you know what I mean, Doc. I'd never even heard of a Calla Lily before ya mentioned it"

"Oh, they are gorgeous flouwers. Very delicate, and very pretty. You should see one just after the first light of evening. The petals shine, and you can see the warmth _radiating_ off of it" He smiles, expression unbelievably soft. It's unclear if he's still just talking about flowers, now.

Kamal blushes, because he has the feeling that he isn't. There's no way. But that means…. He pulls out the next file without Dr. Habit asking, and hands it to him so his hands have something to occupy them. Habit smiles again in thanks, and starts to flip through the contents. Kamal steadily avoids eye contact for several more beats than is normal.

"That sounds… really nice" He murmurs, hands playing with his sleeves.

"It is"

* * *

The flower pot tucked in the crook of his arm is a heavy, constant weight at his side.

Habit shakes a little, so nervous he can't help but wring his tie in his hands. He knocks on the door, agitated even further by the hollow echo launched back at him.

The lock jingles. Kamal steps onto the porch, brow furrowing as soon as he sees Habit, standing on his porch with sweat beading down his forehead.

"Dr. Habit? What are you doing out here? It's like, nine in the evening"

"Yeas. I… I just had to give you this" He shoves the Calla Lily in his hands, hardly noticing the dirt that falls out of the pot.

"Oh," Kamal's eyes get huge, "Thanks, this is, this is really thoughtful"

"I saw it and I thought of you," He says warmly, voice thick with affection, as he watches Kamal carefully regard the bloom, a little, toothy smile on the shorter man's face. Habit can't tear his eyes off of him. He's just so pretty!

Habit folds the sleeves of his red hawaiian shirt with trembling fingers, face warm. "...so I had to bring it to you and… now I think, I think I will be going" Boris stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and spins jerkily on his heel.

Kamal laughs, and then he quickly shakes his head, and grabs Habit's arm with his free hand, before he can rush down the porch steps like he so desperately wants to.

"No! No, Doc, you should really come inside, yeah? I'd just be wrong of me to turn you away at the door. Especially after you give me such a lovely gift" Kamal says, perhaps faster than he should, a lopsided smile stretching across his face.

Boris heaves a silent sigh of relief, and nods eagerly.

Kamal moves out of the doorway, and Boris follows him inside. Kamal places the lily on the mantle in front of the entrance, as Boris takes in his surroundings.

 _Cozy,_ is Boris' immediate thought at the sight of the little house. Warm, and cozy, just like a woolen sweater. Just like Kamal, actually.

"Did you plant this yourself?" Kamal asks. Habit tears his gaze from oval shaped lights with a smile. 

"Of course. I've been tending to this darling for over a year. You like it, don't you?"

"I love it," Kamal says.

And Boris' heart soars. He'd been waiting for (almost) those exact same words for weeks. It was only a difference of one syllable and well… it'd take time.

This was good enough. Boris was not picky. Boris wasn't unappreciative. He could wait. Just being in Kamal's presence was enough for him, anyway.

Habit offers a wide, tight lipped smile.

* * *

Habit is just so passionate about what he's doing.

For a time, his everything is focused on his dentistry. The teeth. His teeth. Teeth. 

Then it becomes the Habitat. The Big Event. Martha. Obsession takes root, and soon it's the only thing he can think about. He let's other things, things that used to be so important to him, fall to the wayside, because they just pale in comparison to the importance of his current project.

Some days, he forgets to eat. He doesn't sleep. Kamal must drag him out of his office, or else he won't come out for days, hunched over his bulletin board with the pictures and the red string, like a puppeteer gazing over his puppets. His eyes start to feel gritty and his hands tremble and his stomach grumbles and he doesn't care because he's missing 3 canisters still and why aren't more people coming? They need more people. More people, more teeth. More teeth.

That's all that matters. Nothing else matters.

"I brought pirozhki," Kamal says, after he knocks on the door, and Boris snatches it open to glare at him. His gazes softens at the sight of him, but only a little.

"Yes, yesss, great grate" And Boris turns to shut the office door. Kamal sticks his foot in the crack just to make sure he can't.

"You _need_ to eat," Kamal says, insistent. 

Boris groans.

"I am very, very busy at moment. Surely another time would be fine, yes?"

"No," Kamal huffs out in reply, "Later means not at all, and, I'm sorry, Doc, but that _won't_ do, so let me on past" And as he says that, he's already pushing his way into the office, forcing Habit to stumble back from where he'd been standing firmly in the doorway. 

Dr. Habit frowns, but ambles over to his desk.

So Habit and Kamal eat in near silence, and Dr. Habit let's his focus waiver, if only for a few moments. Long enough to scarf down the food his body had been craving for days now. He hadn't realized it, but his stomach had started to cramp, he hadn't eaten in so long.

He can't help but note that it's just like his бабушка used to make it, with a warm little flutter in his chest, but it's still not important enough to mention, in that moment. It's not important enough to dwell on for longer than a couple seconds.

"You gotta take better care of yourself, Doc" Kamal scolds, with a worried frown, and Habit nods, but doesn't really hear him.

He finds he really doesn't care. A tiny bit of him aches, at the look of agonized concern that crosses his face (it says he cares, he loves him, he loves him, doesn't he?), but that feeling is short-lived, and soon overshadowed by anticipation. He's getting so close to where he wants to be, and he can hear the cheers of the thousands he will cheer up, and he can see all the teeth, and they just need a few more people, surely, and his bulletin board needs his attention _right now._

Nothing else really matters.

It's much the same when he snatches Kamal's toothbrush out of his hand. Martha is rusting. She needs to be fixed, right now! How will she (he) bring smiles to all, with a smile that is tainted (broken)? She cannot, obviously. That must be resolved immediately.

As Habit sits in the rain, desperately scrubbing with every last bit of strength that he has, scrubbing until each porcelain tooth is sparkling, glistening clean, that's all that matters.

Nothing else matters.

This is all that matters.

* * *

Dr. Habit isn't sure why he said it. He didn't mean it.

He didn't mean to chase him away. It was just… he couldn't help but stare at his wobbly smile, at carpeted teeth filmy green, and can't help but be disgusted. His teeth were horrendous, and Habit couldn't stand to look at him. He can't. He just can't, can't, can't _look_ at him.

He clutches at his hair, claws sharp at his scalp, and sneers at Kamal, lips pulled back in a crazed half rictus grin. He knows he is right.

When Kamal gazes back at him, it's with fear. He is afraid, and confused, and _hurt_ beyond belief. Habit is pulled up short, and he pauses, hands falling to his sides as he stands in the doorway.

"You did this to me" Kamal mutters, and there are tears in his eyes, but he wipes them away, and he refuses to let any more fall.

"How can you say that about me?"

Habit tries to reach for him, but Kamal pulls away, sucking in a shuddering breath. Habit can feel his heart break. Guilt, awful and clawing, brews in his chest, as he watches his little shoulders shaking. He wants so desperately to comfort him, to reach down and wrap him up in his arms and swaddle him, to whisper apologies into his hairline until Kamal stops crying. He doesn't want him to cry. He doesn't want him to hurt.

He doesn't want him to leave. 

"I'm sorry, my Calla Lily. I did not… I did not mean it. Please, Lily, forgive me!" Boris exclaims, so very desperate, and he drops to his knees and snatches up Kamal's little hand in his own, before pressing a kiss to the back of his palm.

Kamal, gazes down at Boris, expression softening, for the shortest of moments,

"I…" He looks away. Boris presses closer to him with a purr, nuzzling against his cheek. Still murmuring little apologies

Kamal's expression hardens, then, and he pushes Boris away with a frustrated huff.

"No! No, Habit. I can't… I don't… I don't havta take this! I can't deal... with tha mood swings and the lashin' out! I can't!" He snatches away from him.

And then he was gone.

He misses the feeling of the man in his arms, the warm weight against his skin, resting against his abdomen.

Dr. Habit sighs, scrubbing at the pot on his desk for the… uh… the 8th time that day. He can't see a speck of dirt on the surface, but he knows it can't be clean. It's still dirty, it's just that… that microscopic filth one can't see. Yes, that's it. So he goes back to scrub a dub dub scrubbing!

It's something to do with his hands, and, besides, everything needs to be perfect for when Kamal comes back.

Kamal liked tidy.

Maybe, if everything was perfect when he came back, he'd like Boris again, too.

* * *

Habit isn't that upset about Flower Kid, at first. Yes, they were putting out a quite frankly futile, effort to cheer up the Habiticians- which was frustrating, but ultimately insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Even if they did manage to make a few measly people happy, it'd make no difference. The Big Event would still occur, and Habit would get his teeth.

Dr. Habit doesn't become upset, until Flower Kid sets their sights on Kamal. _His_ Kamal. Then, he notices. Finally notices that pesky little bug, scurrying about below his tower, crawling beneath his feet, ruining all his plans.

Making Kamal smile. Making Kamal _laugh_.

Making Kamal _happy_ , when he cannot.

He glares through his window, hands gripping the railing so tight it warps beneath the pressure, shadowy form fuzzy with signal static. He can see Flower Kid, standing beside Kamal, black hair a fizzy mess. Kamal is sitting with his hand at his mouth, eyes squinted in amusement, head thrown back. Laughing.

Kamal is _laughing._

He should be the one making him laugh. He should be the one down there, not that two timing, sniveling little degenerate.

Habit growls, gravelly and _angry._

He could just strangle that... that little brat!

* * *

It is Kamal that let's him feel like he can smile again. Real smiles, not those stretched taut fake ones that made him feel more like he's pretending than anything else. With Kamal he can really smile, small and soft.

It's Kamal, who convinces him to get rid of his extra teeth. It's Kamal, who stands with him in the operating room, and gives him anesthetics, and carefully extracts each tooth slotted in his gum line. It's Kamal who hands him the cherry lollipop after every operation, with an encouraging smile and a pat on the back.

It is Kamal, who Habit calls beautiful on one of those such afternoons, high on laughing gas and unable to look away from his smile. Perfect teeth for the perfect fellow (the most lovely, kind, attractive man Boris has ever met, ever).

Kamal blushes, slots the dental syringe back into the sleeve beside the sickle probe, picks up the dental mirror, and asks him how he's feeling.

 _Just peachy,_ Boris replies, with an open mouthed smile, because it's true.

In that very moment, everything is right in the world, because he has Kamal by his side.

* * *

"Are you asking me on a date?"

Habit's heart seizes in his chest. "No, I just… these papers still need to be looked over, yes? And I am very hungry, and I do not want hospital food. It-it could be a date… if you wanted it to be?"

"Maybe, maybe we shouldn't call it that, just yet. More like a friendly get together, yeah?"

"Yeas"

"Cause we're friends?"

Boris feels like he's about to tear up, honestly. Friends. He never thought he'd hear Kamal call him that again.

"Yes, friends"

* * *

Habit writes Kamal love letters.

Kamal knows it's him, because he addresses it to My Lilly, and literally no one else has ever called him that.

Habit carefully seals each one, flipping them over in his hands. He kisses the seal with a happy little sigh, and drops it in the slot of the Post Office's mailbox.

Within the month Kamal has a pile of letters on his coffee table, in bright pink envelopes and with little red 'kissies' peppered across them. Each is addressed from 'boris habit', each with a different, sugary sweet message scrawled beneath the address box:

'I miss U'

'Huggs and Kissies from your dearest'

'I hab not seen the sunnyshine in a long time. Won't you come back?'

Just to name a few.

Kamal hasn't opened any of them yet, but some part of him wants to. But he hasn't, because he's busy: getting a real dental license and going to therapy sessions and going to arts and crafts meetings with Tiff. Real busy, living his life.

Putunia runs up to him from the living room, pink envelope in hand, brandishing it with a confused quirk of her brows, once she reaches him.

"What's this?" She glances over it, then giggles, "Ooooo, someone's sending you valentine letters? Who is it? Do I know them? Tell me, tell me!"

"You don't know them, no" Kamal says, and it's not a lie. Kamal tries not to lie to Putunia, if it's avoidable. He doesn't want to set a bad example, after all. She really doesn't _know_ Habit, anyway. She'd probably only seen him once during her time at the Habitat, and he doubted they'd ever even spoken.

Besides, that hadn't really been Habit, Habit. He hadn't been in a good place. Whoever he was then, he isn't quite that now.

Putunia blows out a disappointed raspberry. "Aww, okay" She says, only to perk up seconds later, "Aren't you going to open it?"

He glances down at it, and shakes his head.

"Nope. I'm not ready to yet" Putunia looks confused again. He thinks he understands. She's probably wondering what he could _possibly_ need to do to get ready to read a letter. It's a letter. You pry the envelope open, and then you read it. Pretty simple.

It's not.

Honestly, he's scared of what he's going to see.

"But when I do open it, you'll be the first to know. And, who knows, maybe we can read it together"

* * *

"I've been in love with yoouuu for a very long time" Habit admits, staring at his hands, "I've been in love with you since… since we first met, actually"

Kamal's eyes widened, "Oh, wow. I'm… really flattered, actually. I think… I'm in love with you too. Have been a while. Maybe not quite that long but, I think we could make something work, yeah?"

"Yes" He says softly, " I would hope so"

**Author's Note:**

> бабушка - babushka - Grandmother


End file.
